Feeling Fine
by Dayspring
Summary: "What d'ya know about whale song, Sammy?"  Dean's POV. Sequel to "Prime Directive" and "Red Shirt".


Spoilers: Missing scenes from Episode 405: Monster Movie and Episode 614: Mannequin 3: The Reckoning. General spoilers for all of Season 6. Sequel to "Prime Directive" and "Red Shirt".

Notes: Thanks, K, for being my beta. This is the third in a trilogy I'm calling TripleTrek. Has little to do with Star Trek, except for the Winchesters' appreciation of the Trek Universe.

Disclaimer: The usual disclaimers of ownership apply, because although it'd be really cool, no show writers, producers, or creative entities will be here writing fanfic.

* * *

"How do you feel?"

Dean glanced from the _**Leaving Pennsylvania**_ sign to his brother. "Which feeling? The warm, fuzzy afterglow of dehymenation or the icky uncleanness of being dressed and undressed by a psycho bitch shapeshifter with a hard-on for horror matinees?"

"Um?" Sam looked shocked and horrified. Wuss. "I was just asking the question that Spock's mom asked him at the end of _The Search For Spock_."

"Oh. In that case, I feel fine."

His brother cleared his throat and rubbed at his knee. That was never a good sign. "I didn't think," Sam said. "I didn't think about the 'shifter having to undress you to put you in the lederhosen. I'm sorry I laughed."

Dean shrugged and smirked. "Now you know why I don't wear shorts."

"No, seriously, Dean. That had to be traumatic, especially given your...history."

"It's all good, Sammy." And it was. What was a nearly sixty-year-old memory (if you counted the Hell years) compared to his night with the lovely Jamie.

"I called you Hansel," Sam said contritely.

Dean sighed. He needed to nip this in the bud before Sam had him pulling over the car so they could have a group hug. "Better than being called Gretel. So why are you thinking about Spock's mom? Still got an eye for the cougars?" Oh, good. The bitchface meant the _Dr. Phil_ moment was over.

"You're Spock."

"No, I'm not. I'm Kirk. Sexy and smooth, with satisfied customers in every port."

"You, like, sacrificed yourself, died and came back. You're Spock."

Dean couldn't argue that part, but he knew who the brainiac in the family was, and it wasn't him. "Think Spock was rehymenated, too? Of course he had that hottie with him through his 'formative' moments, so I doubt his virginity lasted as long as mine. What was her name? The one Kirstie Alley was too good to play. Karma's a bitch, ya know. Didn't want to be known as a Vulcan/Romulan hybrid, but, hey, her fat ass as a selling point was so much more classy. And, no, Sam, I'm not being _insensitive_. When the person in question makes a zillion bucks talking about her fat ass, that ass is fair game."

Sam sighed. "The hottie's name was Saavik."

"Aren't you a precious geek," Dean purred.

"I'd be careful who I called a geek, dude. You know _Star Trek_ and _Star Wars_ lore as well as I do."

"Yeah, but I don't call it 'lore,' know the episodes by name or speak Klingon."

"Or Latin, if your exorcisms are any indications," Sam muttered.

Dean gave him the finger. Hell, yeah, he was feeling fine.

SPNSPNSPN

Dean leaned against the open hood of the Impala, looked around Bobby's place—which he was allowed to consider his—and pondered his current state of mind. Humans were stupid fucks, he concluded. No, since he was pondering and all, he needed to tell the truth _he_ was a stupid fuck. Death had the right of it; he'd grown arrogant and spoiled. He didn't respect death anymore, and now he had the audacity to be angry and depressed because the Haunted Kidney hunt had gone bad.

He'd spent (wasted) so much time fighting angels and demons that he'd just assumed that a little ol' haunting was nothing, had already placed it in the "Win" column as soon as they'd rolled into town. That was one of the reasons he'd left Sam on his own so easily. Heaven or Hell not involved? Yawn. Well, that attitude came back to bite him on the ass, didn't it? Because it was a hunt that was never gonna be cut and dried. The sister had been doomed and not even the Winchester Apocalyptic Heroes could've saved her. If the ghost hadn't conveniently, but accidentally, offed her, they would've had to. There was no way doctors would've removed a "healthy" kidney, and the ghost wouldn't have stopped killing on its own. Even if the sister had moved, there were dicks and assholes everywhere; it was like a parody of that song—if you can't be with the one you hate, hate the one you're with. No, that kidney had to be destroyed and it would've been up to them to do it. There but by the grace of God...

Oh, and let's not forget Stupid Fuck Act 2.0—thinking that the Lisa/Ben storyline was over because HE wanted it to be. For "their own good," he had hurt two people he cared about, hell, that he loved. And he'd hurt them the same way he'd been hurt over and over again—he'd left. Must be a family trait, he thought with disgust. Ben had every reason to hate him.

Winchesters shouldn't have children—blood or otherwise.

Yet, some good had come out of the massive fuck-up the past several days had been. Sam had done something other than scratch at that damn wall. And Sam had told Dean that he had his back. For real. God, it was good, better than good, to know that he meant it this time. If only in this private pondering, he could finally admit that soulless Sam, RoboSam, had scared the shit out of him. And he—it—hadn't slept which meant Dean had only dozed, at best, while it existed. Damn, he owed Death a good meal. Maybe that All-You-Can-Eat place in Georgia? Or that Italian joint in Jersey? Best damn lasagna in the whole country!

"What are you grinning about?"

His grin got bigger because the man interrupting his deep thought was HIS Sammy—asking questions about his feelings and poking his nose in Dean's business. Not the cold, uncaring bastard who'd treated Dean as a means to an end. "That lasagna in Jersey. Dude, see if you can't find us a job in the area."

Sam gave him an evil smirk. "The Jersey Devil's still up for grabs."

Dean shuddered. "Fucking human bat. The thought of it makes my skin crawl."

"But I thought Batman was your hero." His brother choked back a laugh and Dean tossed the Impala's dirty air filter at him.

"Bite me. And by the way, you're back to being Spock."

"Why? Because I came back from the dead?"

"Because you were Asshole!Spock from _The Motion Picture;_ you know, after he went through Kolinahr."

"Oh." Sam paused for a second. "You, know, that's the clearest picture I have of what I must've been like without a soul. I knew from what Cas told me and from The Hunt That Must Not Be Mentioned that I was an arrogant"

"Man ho'?"

Sam glared, then looked ashamed. "Yeah, something like that."

Dean nodded. "Don't get me wrong—you getting some regularly was not a big deal. But even bears don't shit where they eat, dude. Just how many women in that town _didn't_ you sleep with? Not to mention that granola chick you hooked up with while I dealt with the fairies."

"Fairies?"

Oh, shit. That was The Hunt That Would Never Be Retold—Ever. "Nothing, Sam."

"We fought fairies? For real, man? Tinkerbell and shit?"

"_I_ fought fairies in the fairy realm—you banged a hippie while I was missing."

"No."

"Yeah, but you didn't know I was with the fairies; you thought I was alien-abducted."

"Alien-abduc— You're shitting me, right?"

"Wish I was, dude. What can I say? It's been a hell of a ride since you returned."

Sam looked flustered. "Jesus, Dean."

Dean bit his lower lip, then shrugged. "Ain't run into him yet, but there's still time." He looked at Sam, and they both cracked up.

Sam wiped his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "Dad didn't know the half of it, did he?"

"Do we?"

That sobered them up quickly and Dean realized Sam was about to launch into that existential shit he'd learned in his philosophy class at Stanford ("It was a requirement, Dean"). He fished around for anything to derail that train. "What d'ya know about whale song, Sammy?"

Sam started to answer, then he tilted his head at Dean. "What?"

"Whale song. Ain't that what saved the universe in _Star Trek IV_?"

"Yeah, and...?" Sam stopped when he figured out where Dean was headed. Their lives were a string a Trek movies. It was best to be prepared. "Oh, guess I better go Google that, huh?"

"I'll save our newest credit card for eBay—just in case." Dean loved eBay; no matter how outrageous, rare, or ancient a thing they needed on a hunt, somebody had it to sell. The guys from UPS didn't even have to GPS Bobby's address anymore.

"Things are pretty quiet on the hunting front, so if you need more time with" Sam nodded at the car.

"Yeah, I could use some more time with her. She knew it had to be done, but damn, I hated putting her in harm's way." It was what he was trying to avoid with Ben. Hopefully, one day Ben would understand that.

Aaannnd back to the damn brooding. No, he wasn't going to do it. The Impala was almost as good as new. Sam was his pouty, bitchy self. Bobby had cussed them out before leaving on some mysterious errand. Everything was normal, stable in his little world and he damn well was going to appreciate that. And how better to show that appreciation than by messing with his brother?

He turned toward the Impala for a second to give himself time to wipe away his burgeoning smirk, then turned to Sam and said in a very soft voice, "Did you mean it, Sammy? The _thank you_ for giving you back your soul?"

"Of course, man," Sam said earnestly.

"Then could you—I mean—would you...Get Me A Beer, Bitch." Only his quick reflexes saved him from being brained by the wrench tossed his in direction as Sam stomped off.

He grabbed a rag and scrubbed at the grease spots on his baby's fender. Then he scanned the yard for a truck that might have enough power to pull a whale-sized trailer behind it.

Nah, he'd just have the giant fish angel-mailed. Friends in high places came with perks.

"Dean!" Sam's voice carried from the house.

Dean jerked instinctively. He'd passed Biology, thank you very fucking much, and knew whales were mammals, not fish. He was just being snarky. In his own mind. Wait. Was Sam fucking reading his mind? "What?" he yelled back, scared to hear the answer. Sam did not have a good track record when it came to gifts of the "special snowflake" variety.

"Bobby has barbecue from The Pig Shack!"

The Pig Shack! Death would love it!

He closed the hood gently and gave his car a pat before he took off for dinner. He was right, after all; he was Kirk. Kirk was a righteous dude on his own, an admiral and shit. But he was at his best, his kickass-iest, with Spock on his right, Bones on the left, and the Enterprise at his back. The combination gave Kirk the utter confidence that whatever challenge the universe tossed at their feet, _they_ could overcome it.

Well, _his_ Spock had his woobie emotions to temper whatever residual damage that eventually seeped over the wall. _His_ Bones had giant pockets from which he pulled all sorts of things like conversational Japanese and demon-proof panic rooms. And _his_ Enterprise, well, she was a thing of beauty, speed and heart. If the three of them couldn't find a way _around_ whatever shit that came their way, they'd find a way _through_ it. Because that's what they did. Because they had each other. Because they were together. Because they were family.

Because all in all, they were feeling fine.

The End


End file.
